


i'll stay, i'll stay

by sunlethe



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Introspection, Mild character spoilers, Morning After, implied sex, no plot spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-12
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-08-22 02:26:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8269151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunlethe/pseuds/sunlethe
Summary: It wasn't a completely impossible situation. They've slept together many times before. Surely she’s bound to stay; surely he's going to make her stay soon enough.  "You didn't want me to leave."Maybe soon wasn’t too soon after all.After a while, Saeran nods at this, still half-lethargic himself. He purses his lips together, feels them curl up around the corners, before he finally agrees, "I didn't want you to leave."
  Mornings after aren't always for contemplation. Mornings after don't always have to be lonely.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Saeran's probably OOC and I'm sorry. Purely self-indulgent stuff to cleanse the palate. Hope Cheritz gives him the route he deserves soon (because the Choi boys both need lots of love for all the bullcrap they're put through).
> 
> **recommended listening:** Roses ft. Rozes - The Chainsmokers  
>  _(just because)_  
> 

He blinks away sleep—greets the day with an aberration of mint-gold eyes staring back at him. She's bare from the shoulder down, blanket pooled around the dip of her waist, copper skin stained with marks from the night before. She doesn't smile—nor frown—at him. Only _looks_ : as if it were enough not to do anything else besides. As if Saeran were still sleeping, and it is enough to just bask in this tranquillity. To leave him pure and undisturbed.

Saeran remembers his arm against her side, hand draped somewhere along her lower back—above a blanket. His lashes dip to a slow blink, mouth pressed tight, unable to chain words together. All the while, she does nothing but watch.

Only then does he notice the hand on his chest, over the bones above his heart. Her palm isn't damp this time, like it always would be when he’d reach out for her. It is a soft thing, a patient thing, intent on keeping vigil there and knowing that his pulse still beats steady over paper-pale skin. It never leaves this space above his ribcage.

"You're still here," Saeran settles for murmuring. His voice comes out low and brittle. He can't help but wince.

His lover hardly seems fazed by the sound. Her own mouth remains raw and neutral, blinks slow like his—one after the other. Her lashes aren’t long, but neither are they thin. Saeran likes it whenever they graze the skin beneath her eye. It is a beautiful, curious thing. "You didn't want me to leave."

He watches her lips move with a quiet fixation. They are a subtle mix of earthy-peach and orchid. Small and hardly full; still a bit swollen from his continuous assault not too long ago. Warm. Wonderful.  _His_.

Her breaths remain even beneath his draped arm, even at his scrutiny. A quiet awareness floods through Saeran at the state of her undress—at their proximity. His eyes roam down to her chest, blanket entirely forsaken from the area, and she leaves nothing there concealed. Could care less if he stares.

The marks he left behind bloom like flowers over her upper half. There's a rawness in his back whenever he shifts subtly, and he can almost map out the lines of raw skin her nails have left behind. With these reminders, it is easy to recall the pleasant aches all over, the sounds made and heard only by two sets of mouths and ears the night before. It is enough to make him yearn for her again. She feels better than any other drug in his system. Too good to be true.

Maybe she is a dream. She never stayed for mornings after.

Her side still dips up and down to each gentle breath, even when his arm subtly tenses. Saeran blinks again, because it's a sure sign that _this is real_ and he can't find it in himself to believe otherwise.

His vision flits back to her face. Beautiful and half-sleepy and still half hung-over with an afterglow from hours before. He’s struck by how easy it would be to claim her mouth with the crane of a neck, to close the feeble distance between them with just a little adjustment on his part. He wants to—above anything else—if it wasn't quite a shock to find out that she'd stayed. The revelation still freezes him in place.

It wasn't a completely impossible situation. They've slept together many times before. Surely she’s bound to stay; surely _he's_ going to make her stay soon enough.

_"You didn't want me to leave."_

Maybe _soon_ wasn’t too soon after all.

After a while, Saeran nods at this, still half-lethargic himself. He purses his lips together, feels them curl up around the corners, before he finally agrees, "I didn't want you to leave."

A mirror of Saeran's smile creeps up over her mouth, and suddenly, the muddiness of her not-quite-gold, not-quite-mint eyes seem less like an aberration and more like a treasure to covet. Less like tea and milk left unmixed together and more like the nicest eyes he'll ever see. She presses closer against him, blanket-clad thigh colliding against his. It exudes warmth like the rest of her. "I don't want you to want that either," she says simply.

A hand moves up to cup her face, and the impulse is entirely _Saeran's_. No one and nothing else’s—no drugs, nor orders, nor notions driven by religious belief. The same can be said for the leg that ghosts between her thighs, pries them apart and pushes her from her side and onto her back: choppy brown hair a halo, her breath hitching as she stares up at him, looming before her like an eclipse over the sun.

The hand on her cheek moves to clear away the dark strands that fall across her eyes. From there, they wander with a gentleness that unbecomes Saeran from the night before, caressing to a stop at the tip of her chin.

His foot is crafty enough to maneuver the sheets out of her waist.

"So this is how it's meant to feel..." he muses at no one in particular—although his cool, mint-green eyes never leave hers.

"What?" she whispers in question, heart thrumming for what's to come. For what his answer might be. Saeran chuckles at this. She is a vision, marred and welcoming beneath him. She completes him in ways he’s never known he’s missing.

Saeran's weight presses down slowly, skin-on-skin, equally-bruised mouth ghosting a breath away from hers. The tips of his chalky, long-ago-bleached hair tickle her face. He blinks one last time at her before a small, boyish smile makes a home in him, too. His love smiles back. She is a vision—and she is his. Just as he’s hers.

 _Finally, finally_ …

"Paradise," Saeran finishes, before sealing the word with a kiss, equal-parts hungry and glass-like.

No sooner than that does she surrender to him like she always does, letting him bury deep and leave her gasping, again and again, against his sheets and at the heavenliness of it all.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm actually writing something darker, and more true-ish to MM's and Saeran's plot than this. God Seven give me the courage to soldier through it.


End file.
